


In a Different Life

by floofman



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Mirror of Erised, Or just sex in a mirror, Smut, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 16:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21102299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofman/pseuds/floofman
Summary: Draco, frustrated with his lack of progress with the Vanishing Cabinets, indulges in a secret fantasy.





	In a Different Life

It had been days since Draco last sought out the Room of Requirement. Ever since that cursed mirror showed him. . .

He swallowed heavily around the bitter lump in his throat. The simple thought of what he witnessed sent shivers down his spine and flames across his face. The mirror unleashed desires unaware to even himself, until that fateful evening. It was like a breath of fresh air in a smog-ridden room, a sip of crisp water in an arid desert. At one glance, he could hardly tear his eyes away. The image of himself with. . .

Draco was in love with Harry Potter. 

At least, he thought it was love. But in that moment, standing before the mirror, Merlin, it felt magical. Something beyond the physical. Rationally speaking, however, it was probably unfulfilling lust, the product of raging hormones and mortal stress. Besides, having seen the boy on the quidditch field, sweat dripping from his brow, eyes narrowed in determination, that solid body, compact with lean muscle and tanned skin, who was to blame him?

Fuck, Draco was in deep. Before the mirror, this shameful infatuation could be ignored. As soon as his thoughts registered themselves, a shift of his eyes to a softer, more supple body averted any disaster. 

Moreover, Draco had been tasked with a mission of utmost importance. He couldn’t afford to fuck up, much less for some weak affection, and a boy at that. The thought of his father, mother, Snape--literally anyone--finding out had his knees quaking beneath his robes and his skin breaking into a dreadful sweat. He had to complete his assignment, for his parents’ sake and for the Cause. It was simply unfortunate that the object of his deep-rooted desires, a window to a life he could never have, pleasures he would never experience, sat in his line of sight as he stared dumbly at the cabinets.

Perhaps a small peek would assuage his sentiments, Draco mused distractedly. It wasn’t as if the cabinets presented a solution and his time was being spent unproductively. Just a glimpse, something to ease the tightly coiled muscles and pass the time. He probably needed a break from the Vanishing Cabinets, a fresh start to see things from a new perspective. A peek is all he needed. 

Draco picked himself off the floor. He was shaking, minute tremors running through his veins. He refused to acknowledge his anxiety because that would mean acknowledging the weight the Mirror and its secrets had on him. No, instead he stood hesitantly in front of it, eyes peering in trepidation. He felt his stomach tighten in anticipation and arousal. His mouth had dried up and his palms sticky with sweat. 

And there they were. His own, familiar body draped over The Boy Who Lived. His tan body in all its naked glory, mind the dumb glasses. His dark hair was mused and teased in all directions. Draco watched Potter’s--Mirror Potter’s-- fingers trail over his pale skin, tracing soft patterns with no path across his back, his arms, and chest. Draco’s breath hitched; he could feel the lazy fingers on his own skin leaving behind fiery tracks. He watched himself gasp as Potter circled a pink nipple before grabbing and pinching. He watched Potter’s skilled tongue invade his mouth, could see the depth of the kiss and hear it in all its lewd glory. He watched Potter’s hand sneak between them, grabbing his cock and idly tug it to full mast. He watched his back arch into that strong hand, his alabaster thigh rubbing against Potter’s--and Draco swallowed heavily at the sight--flushed cock. 

The scene sent Draco crashing to his knees. Mindlessly, he shoved a hand down his trousers to fist his own startlingly hard cock and whined at ghosted breaths and fevered touches. Merlin, he wished Potter was here. Touching and teasing, just like the Mirror. How he craved those hard muscles and light fingers and hot kisses. He could feel the heat and wetness on his own skin, and when Potter bit down on a nipple, Draco squeezed his prick hard. He felt himself panting and watched himself thrusting into Potter’s grip. He could practically feel the sensuous sensations, but, oh, to have those phantom caresses be real. How he longed to buck and writhe at the hands of that boy, come undone at the seams by his skill. 

Draco’s balls ached, and as the scene sped on with vigorous heat, his sack drew tight. He spilled in his hand, soaking his pants and exhaling Potter’s name, before slumping forward on the chilled floor. 

The second his flushed cheek his the dusted wood, Draco’s reality came crashing down, reminding him of boundaries and duties he felt no obligation to respect, not in the post-coital haziness. It bothered him how upset he became at Potter’s absence. How he would never obtain what he wanted so, so much. So instead of returning to his endless task at the Vanishing Cabinets, Draco curled into a ball and imagined a life with a Potter who didn’t despise him, a life without the brewing War.


End file.
